


In Ten Sentences or Less

by steel_and_starlight



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Family, Feel-good, Fluff, Love, M/M, Multi, Random & Short, Short & Sweet, Slice of Life, Warm, the sweet fluff to make your teeth rot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5092121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steel_and_starlight/pseuds/steel_and_starlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In ten sentences or less, experience beloved characters from The Hobbit in different, but unusually sweet, situations that speak true to the essence of family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cinnamon (Domestic Bilbo/Thorin)

While the Dwarves had their talent with metal, Hobbits possessed a talent to work with food. The meals a Hobbit had daily, of which there are six, weren’t barren and boring- their opulent eating habits matched their opulent ways of living. Hobbit food, like other aspects of Hobbit culture, means comfort and family, and as such, Hobbit meals were usually thick, creamy, succulent, maybe even sweet or spicy, but almost always warm. 

Hobbits used spices not only to flavor, but to heal- while parsley is used to garnish soup, it also calms an upset stomach, cinnamon is used not only to sweeten the rolls, the cakes, the tea, and the hams, but to stimulate the appetite. 

However, not everyone was interested in the health or even the taste of these herbs, but instead simply enjoyed the smell or the sight of their natural magic. Thorin came inside after walking through the sweet rain, holding a tiny jar with little branches of cinnamon dancing inside. 

Thorin felt the heat hit his moist clothing, Bilbo must have built a fire while he was gone, and sighed- “Bilbo! I’ve returned.” He hadn’t noticed it when he first walked in, but Thorin could smell the sweet and familiar scent of cinnamon and sugar melting with baking dough. 

A little hobbit came bounding out of the kitchen, towards the dwarf who was taking off his boots with a gentle smile.

“Uncle Thorin!”, he squeaked, holding up the sticky bun, “We’re making cinnamon rolls! Uncle Bilbo found another jar of cinnamon, but after we found it, you had already left!”


	2. Vision (Kili/Tauriel)

The stars were more like shining stones to Kili, they glittered and they sang from the dark shadows and led him through the caves so dark and secluded. So was it so surprising that he found solace in a woman who dances with the stars, a woman with a smile that in comparison, the very stars are dull. He was so enthralled with her light, like he was enthralled with the starry skies.

On the hill they sat, watching the skies more than they were watching the slowly-building cities below, the cavernous castle that bustled with life, or the forests and the plains that stretched out, interrupted by gory holes of ruin and destruction. 

“Amrâlimê, look at the stars above, can you see what I see?” 

Tauriel looked away from their familiar glow to glance at Kili, smiling mysteriously. 

“I can see a dwarf, made of the shining stone, holding a woman glimmering, dressed in a ethereal robe of liquid light. I can see them gliding and dancing, I can see them slipping on their feet and I can see them laughing with a kind of glee that hasn’t been experienced since the days before our time.”

Tauriel giggled, “You’re vision is so otherworldly and so far away.”

 

She grabbed his hand and held it tightly, and as she began to lean into him , she whispered these quiet words,

 

“The only visions I can see aren’t so glorious or so beautiful Kili, but they’re worth so much more to me than all of the stars and the jewels combined in this world.”


	3. Sparrow

Bard wasn't one for whittling.

 

He was constantly busy, and while it was only good things that kept him occupied, he never had the time to do the things that he used to love and enjoy. Now, his family took up his time, and while it was a positive force that decided to eat away at any and all free time he previously had, he could feel the itch to work with his hands and to revel in the quietness that he once only could possess when the children were asleep and he was dead-tired. 

He woke up in the early hours of the morning where the house was so quiet it didn't even feel alive, it was so surreal. Bard scratched at the back of his head, sighing, reliving the dreams of fire and destruction over and over, with the addition of further losses and tragedy and-

he released a breath that he forgot he was holding. 

In his sleepy state, he wandered out of his bed and over to his bedside stand where a half-finished sparrow whistle lay. He picked it up and examined it, from the amount of dust and the mellowness of the grooves, the last time he worked on this whistle was at least five weeks ago. Was he making it for his daughter, his son, or his baby, or could he not remember who he was making if for? With a small sigh, he picked up his small knife and grabbed the malformed bird. 

With time, and with Bard's willingness to work and toil, 

this bird would sing.


End file.
